


Lanterns Lit

by BlackKite7



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dragons, Fluff and Angst, Iwaizumi searches for dragons to relocate and finds a handsome stranger instead, M/M, Magic, Oikawa is a sorcerer who has forgotten some key memories, mature and graphic depictions of violence tagged just in case and also for future things maybe, other characters and tags to be added with updates, potential smut who knows yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 09:25:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6512647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackKite7/pseuds/BlackKite7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thick but neat brows knitting together when the confused passed. “You dragged me up this mountain in the middle of the night to search for dragons and you come back with some half-dead pretty boy?” he asked incredulously.</p><p>With a heavy sigh, Iwaizumi stopped in front of him, the unconscious stranger hanging limp against his side. “Are you going to help me or not?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unexpected Arrivals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaneki_coffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaneki_coffee/gifts).



> Do I know what I'm doing? Sort of. Am I having fun? YES.  
> Smol dragons and tomfoolery await.
> 
> For Tal, because I sorta fudged the last thing I tried to write for them :c but hey! Dragons! Angst(?)! Yay!

The deepest parts of the cavern were pitch black, too far from the cave’s opening and with no cracks in the hard stone ceiling to allow the silver streams of moonlight to filter in. The sound of wind whistling through the endless tunnels made it seem like there were a hundred voices within, softly whispering in that darkness. The dark stone walls of the cave were solid and rounded in most places, ages upon ages of wind eroding the surface and making it smooth, and under the scattered pockets of sand and gravel was a hard, crystal like surface that crept up the walls slightly and reflected light in the daytime.

In one of those many dark chambers, the still air shimmered for a moment, rippling and twisting around itself, as if it suddenly had a solid form and was being plucked and twirled around that one shimmering spot. A small, almost ethereal, form began to emerge from that shimmering spot, a tiny speck that bulged as if something was trying to escape from within. The sand and loose pebbles began to swirl under it in a perfect circle as it grew larger, as if pushed away by a gentle breeze to reveal the obsidian floor.

And suddenly, with a cacophonous sound like lightning cracking through the air that flooded the cavern tunnels, the ethereal form expanded and snapped the veil that prevented its emergence in that place. A brief burst of light filled the chamber before it faded and the darkness crept back in as the heavy thud of a body connected with the crystal floor.

The cavern, once filled with only the softest wisps of wind, now had a new voice. One that was soft, sobbing, and wretched in pain as its owner lay limp on ground, the cold grit of stone and sand under his body. Dressed in light and simple clothes, he immediately began to shiver from the distinct temperature difference from where he had been to the inside of the cold cavern.

Breathless and shaking, the young man tried to push himself up onto his hands and knees, his chest aching terribly as something warm dripped down his front and began to pool on the black stone floor and wet the sand under him. Were there any light in the cavern, he might have seen the reflection of scrapes and cuts on his cheeks and lips on the crystal floor, and the heavy lidding of dark brown eyes as well as the dishevelled state of wind whipped chestnut hair under a circlet of twining silver. In the darkness, however, he saw nothing. He couldn’t even make out his own hands under him.

With a trembling hand, he pressed his palm to the thin gashes that cut across his torso from his neck to waist. They weren’t too deep; he’d just barely been able to evade a lethal blow as he finished his spell. Ignoring the pain as best he could, he sat up on his haunches and cradled his stomach as he recited a meaningless chant into the dark.

“My name is…my name…Tooru…Oikawa Tooru…” he anchored himself quickly, trying to remember as many things as he could about who he was so he would not forget himself. The use of magic often came with a hefty price, particularly for those not born with an innate talent for it. For him, that price was his memories. Something was always forgotten when he exerted himself too much, or when he did not properly prepare for a spell. Usually it was simple things, like the names of cutlery or a lullaby from his youth. Such had been the case this time around but it felt different. More intentional. He didn’t understand why.

He could remember his name, thankfully. He remembered the studies of the arcane, of magic. Born in a southern kingdom...but could not recall who his parents were, if he had siblings, friends, lovers…he saw blurred faces in the back of his mind, with faded and distorted voices, but no more. He remembered the feeling of wind that howled through the night and tasted heavily of sea salt. He remembered the library that was his study, with its glass stained windows and leather bound tomes that smelled of dust.

More recent memories came to mind as well. A toothy smile. The taste of thick copper on his tongue. The crackling of flames that licked the walls, the shattering of glass. A wholesome laugh, innocent and jovial. Empty black eyes that peered into the soul and invaded the mind. How such things came to pass evaded him. Indeed, the more he lingered on them, the further away those memories became until they faded into nothing.

Whatever remained was either unimportant in the moment, or forgotten.

With a resigned sigh that made his chest ache, Oikawa hung his head and the circlet slipped from his crown and bounced with a clatter before rolling away in the dark. He dug his fingers into his skin, trying to think of how he could close the wound on his chest. He knew the cantrip that would instigate a healing surge, he knew it, he did…and yet it would not come to mind, no matter how long he sat there muttering under his breath, desperately trying to trigger some memory of it, nothing happened.

His voice echoed in the cavern’s chamber, the soft mumbled words carried on the whispering wind, and drew a curious creature closer in the darkness.

It was some time before Oikawa was alerted to its presence. The sound of claws scrapping and skittering over the obsidian floor, and a guttural chittering that bounced off the walls and the inside of his skull.

Oikawa whirled his head around in the darkness, trying to find the source of the sound. He saw nothing, the pitch black of the cave was deep and endless. A familiar feeling of panic bloomed in his chest. The chittering noise was louder now, as was the sound of his pulse beating in his ears. His chest rose and fell with much more frequency as he forced himself to his feet. Rising up immediately made him feel lightheaded and dizzy, and with his free hand he clutched his head tightly as his weight shifted and he staggered backwards.

Suddenly, he felt something pierce his calf muscle, and with a startled cry he lifted his leg to shake whatever it was off him. In doing so, he became unsteady and fell on his back, his head banging hard on the uneven ground. Adrenaline eased him through the pain and the ringing noise in his ears, and in the corner of his eye, he suddenly saw a light.

Oikawa flinched away at first, the light harsh to his eyes as they had dilated in the dark, and when he looked back, he felt his lungs empty all at once in a shaking sigh.

The creature on his leg was radiating light from its chest. The body of the beast emitted a dull orange glow, seen brightly through the cracks in white scales that glowed with the same orange hue. A small reptilian body, flaked with smooth scales and short spines that stretched from a long flicking tail to the base of its skull. The glow of fire in its belly stretched up its neck and the tiny flames licked the roof of its mouth and slipped through the gaps in sharp fanged teeth.

A pair of jaggedly slit pupils peered at him in the darkness as the young dragon, no larger than two thirds of his arm from head to tail, crawled up his leg.

With his heart lodged in his throat, Oikawa froze as the hatchling’s talons dug into his thigh as it crept slowly up his body hesitantly, curiously. Its head twisted as it regarded him with a huff, steam puffing from its nostrils as it took in the scent of blood in the air. The panic billowing in his chest turned in pure, unadulterated fear. He had read tomes about dragons, the words and sketched images suddenly brought to mind; ancient books that were fragile and limited in their knowledge. But the myth of them was of fierce and greedy beasts, and those that had seen such creatures knew to be wary, even of the young ones.

Frozen in place, Oikawa could only watch as the dragon dropped its head to his waist. He felt its hot snout pressing against his hip and the head of the hatchling disappeared through the tear in his shirt. He could only see the glow of it under the thin fabric. Was it going to get a taste before burrowing into his chest to devour him from the inside out? He thought for a moment to grab at its tail and rip it from his body, but his limbs felt heavy, the fear locking all his joints in place, and he broke out in a cold sweat as its claws scrapped against his chest as it crawled upward.

And without warning, the beast pressed its torso against the open wound of his chest, and the sound of sizzling flesh and burning blood were silenced by the shrieking cry of pain that parted Oikawa’s lips. The dragon growled in alarm when his hand flailed over his own chest, grabbing at the beast to pry it away, but it had latched onto his body and pressed harder into the wound, his skin burning as the dragon’s stomach grew hotter and hotter.

He finally found purchase, able to hook his fingers under one of the dragon’s upper legs and its stomach. The belly of it was burning hot in his hand as he yanked it out from under his shirt and tossed the creature haphazardly to the side as he rolled in the same direction. He heard it yelp and a fluttering sound as wings unfurled to steady it, and he could only faintly see the glowing hatchling through watering eyes as he gasped and winced in pain. His chest heaved as he sobbed through the pain, nerves on fire as the wound closed itself from the heat.

A voice echoed in the cave, faded unintelligible words, and Oikawa wasn’t sure who the voice belonged to. The dragon skittered in the corners of his vision on the obsidian floor, raising its head up and making a series of throaty calls, as if beckoning something closer.

Somewhere in the dark he heard the sound of heavy, rapid footfalls as his vision blurred and the only sounds that left his throat were that of painful cracked sobs. Oikawa’s body curled in on itself, arms cradling his chest as it shook and twitched from the stinging sensation in his nerves and he pressed his forehead into the hard floor as he swore a thousand curses.

He had only tried to escape, to get somewhere safe from a danger he no longer remembered, and he instead landed himself in the nest of a young dragon, and possibly its mother.

The thudding sound grew closer as the dragon skirted around him and disappeared from sight, the glow fading as something else entered the chamber. Something latched onto the scuff of his shirt and yank on it roughly, forcing him onto his back as a blindly light from above made his turn his head away.

Through bleary eyes, Oikawa blinked and looked up at his doom, waiting for its toothy embrace. A steady stream of light from the tip of a bladed stave illuminated the cavern and the hooded figure dressed in heavy furs who wielded it and that had reached for him. Oikawa could just barely make out their face as his vision faded more rapidly. The glaring light bounced off tan skin, revealing the sharp hazel eyes that were narrowed at him under furrowed brows, and lips curled into a tight frown as he was shouted at by a voice he could not hear over the dull ringing in his ears.

The stranger’s eyes wandered, examining him quickly, and when their gaze met again as he leaned in to shake him, lips still moving but making no sound, Oikawa’s vision went as black as it had been when he first appeared in the cave.

 

* * *

 

Outside the cave mouth, a young man tried to calm a horse that stomped in place and shook its head in distress. He wore a heavy cloak under thick furs that protected him from the cold night, and he pulled the hood higher over brunet locks as his cheeks burned red. Tugging on the reins firmly, he kept the horse steady as he made soft cooing sounds to ease it into a calm state. Even so, he looked over his shoulder towards the cave mouth, where not long ago he had heard a scream that startled them both.

“You better not be dead in there,” he muttered as he patted the horse’s cheek as it reared its head and nudged its snout against his shoulder. Looking back, he made another series of quiet hushing sounds and ruffled the horse’s mane gently. “Easy there, old girl. If he is, we can go home and be warm. Sounds good, yeah?”

“Matsukawa!” The sudden voice of his friend made him jump in his skin, and he jerked his head up and around to look back into the cave. He could see the dim light and the outline of his friend, and he quickly lead the horse towards the entrance of the dark cave.

“Are you alright? You have all your limbs? Or what’s left of them?” Matsukawa called out as the silhouette grew larger, and he could make out some of his features more clearly – and that of another. “Iwaizumi, is that–…”

“Ha-ha, very funny, now help me out will you?” Iwaizumi huffed as he shrugged his shoulders and shifted a body he carried closer at his side. Matsukawa’s eyes opened wide in confusion as Iwaizumi stepped into the moonlight with the stranger.

Thick but neat brows knitting together when the confused passed. “You dragged me up this mountain in the middle of the night to search for dragons and you come back with some half-dead pretty boy?” he asked incredulously.

With a heavy sigh, Iwaizumi stopped in front of him, the unconscious stranger hanging limp against his side. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Matsukawa looked over his shoulder to make sure the horse was calm before he let the reins fall loose. The horse remained in place and he reached for the stranger Iwaizumi had hauled out of the cavern when he was sure it would not wander. He hooked his hands under the unconscious man’s arms and pulled him from Iwaizumi to support his weight.

“A poacher?” Matsukawa asked and lifted his gaze to see Iwaizumi stripping back one of the heavy cloaks around his shoulders and the furs that kept him warm.

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t have any gear with him,” Iwaizumi replied as he shook the cloak and wrapped it around the stranger. His skin was cold to the touch by then, and he looked far too pale for it to be his normal complexion.

“What do you want to do?” when the question was put to him, Iwaizumi looked up at Matsukawa with a frown. Matsukawa mimed the expression immediately. “ _Oh,_ _no_. No, no, no – we are _not_ bringing him back to the cabin.”

“He needs help, Matsukawa. We’re not leaving him out here,” Iwaizumi replied firmly. “Hanamaki can fix him up and then we can dump him somewhere to go back to wherever the hell he came from.”

Matsukawa tipped his head back with a loud, unsatisfied groan. “This isn’t what we came here to do!”

“Relax, we won’t have to come back,” Iwaizumi said as he finished adjusting the cloak around their unconscious ward.

“What do you–” it was in that moment that Matsukawa realised there was a small bulge under Iwaizumi’s cloak, on his left shoulder. When he looked closer, he saw the small head of a white scaled dragon peeking out from under the edge of it. A soft sigh parted his lips as he stared in awe of the young creature nestled against Iwaizumi’s neck and watching the exchange with curious slitted eyes. “Well, hey there little one…”

The small dragon lifted its head up slightly when it realised it was being addressed and made a brief sound from deep in his throat. For a moment Matsukawa thought the belly of the creature was black, a strange pattern for a cave dweller, but quickly realised that it was a wet fluid stuck to its underside and had soaked into Iwaizumi’s shirt.

“Is that blood?” he asked worriedly, and Iwaizumi nodded.

“I found her crawling all over this guy,” Iwaizumi explained, not once looking up at Matsukawa as he tilted the chin of the stranger up to look at his face in the bright moonlight. He looked like he’d been in a hell of a fight, but the wounds weren’t from any animal he’d seen before. “See there, the burn?”

Matsukawa tilted his head down, following Iwaizumi’s gaze. He could just barely see the jagged scarring on the side of his neck that stretched down across his collarbone and below his torn shirt. “Holy hell…”

In that moment, something distracted them both. A cold shiver that ran up their spine at the same time, a familiar but invasive feeling, and they looked at each other with a knowing look. Matsukawa lifted his free hand to tug at a silver chain at his neck, revealing a faintly glowing gem at the end of the necklace. Peering into it, they could see a figure reflected on its surface, pale with hair an unnatural shade of dull pink-brown with thin brows and a cheeky smile.

And in the back of their minds, a voice: ‘ _what’s taking so long? You’re not making out in the woods now, are you?_ ’

With a deep pout, Iwaizumi glared at the enchanted gemstone. “Knock it off, smartass. We’re bringing someone back with us, so be ready.”

‘ _Oh?_ ’ a moment of silence before the same chill crept over their skin, and for a moment, Matsukawa swore he felt the unconscious stranger tremble for a moment. ‘ _Nothing’s ever simple when you two go out, huh? Well, hurry up._ ’

The words lasted only a moment, delivered and then vanished, and with it the invasive feeling of being watched as the scrying ended.

With a quick agreement to leave before it started to snow, they made quick work of arranging themselves and making sure they had all their things before trying to hoist the stranger up onto the horse’s back. Matsukawa rode with him, the stranger held to his chest so he would not fall, while Iwaizumi led the horse by the reins back through the thick forest and down the mountainside, using the glowing tip of the stave he carried to light the way. It would take a few hours to get back to the shoddy cabin they had occupied while in the area.

Glancing over his shoulder, Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes at the brunet resting against Matsukawa’s chest. Following his gaze, Matsukawa, too, examined the stranger. He was poorly dressed for the cold, especially so far away from civilisation, and there was little on him they could find save for some expensive looking necklaces, bracelets and earrings.

“Who do you think he is?” Matsukawa asked after a long moment of silence. Iwaizumi thought on it for a while but he could think of no explanation as to why – or how, for that matter – such a person had found their way into the heart of a scavenged dragon’s lair. He knew magic had many applications, but it was beyond him to understand its nuances, and left it at that.

“I have no idea. Hanamaki could find out though. Maybe.” It was the only answer he could think of. Matsukawa accepted it with a nod.

And with nothing else to say, they began the journey back home with more than they had originally bargained for. Finding young dragons and hatchlings, they were used to. But a handsome stranger, appearing seemingly out of nowhere in the dead of night, in a cave, on a remote mountain?

Even with all they had seen over the years, that was still a surprise.


	2. A Rude Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is appropriate time management and pacing oneself? I Don't?? Know???  
> Enjoy~

The main living area of the cabin was filled with the sound of clacking and grinding stone. The tapping of solid rock roused Oikawa, made him stir and shift as he lay on his side and he twitched at the noise. With fluttering eyelids, he woke and found himself staring at a fire pit in the centre of the room, the wood black and cracked with red veins as flames flickered low around them. The air was warm and carried the faint scent of wood smoke as the fire crackled occasionally.

Sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of the fire pit with his back to him was a slender young man with jaggedly cut, pinkish-brown hair. Oikawa blinked at the garb he wore; a long sleeved black shirt, the cuffs of which extended over his palms and a colourful pale red and violet robe was wrapped around his waist and bundled under his legs, the long slits of which revealed loose pants bound tight around his calves with twine. The stranger held a mortar and pestle and was placing seeds and slightly charred herbs into the bowl to crush them, all while wiggling his toes by the slowly dying fire.

As he opened his mouth to call out to the stranger, he heard the sound of loose earth shifting and flinched as a stream of dirt and dust fell from the ceiling onto his face. He winced as he lifted a bandaged hand out from under the heavy blankets resting over his chest to rub the corner of his eye. When he tilted his head to the side to look up at the ceiling, he swallowed hard and blinked at the creature that hung from what looked like a rope net that stretched across the ceiling.

A memory flashed in his mind: the white scaled dragon with short spines and a smooth hornless head. He remembered that creature, but this one was different. A similar shape, perhaps a little smaller, but its eyes were a vibrant brown, flecked with gold in the iris as it peered down at him. Its hard scales were an olive drab, but when the dim light reflected on them, they glimmered a vibrant green. Instead of horns, its skull was adorned with spiked frills that extended in two rows down its spine, and its leather-like wings were furled tightly around its belly as it stretched down to land on his chest.

Oikawa remembered the searing pain of the burn he had received from the other dragon from not long ago, his chest twitched at the memory of it. With a start, he yelped as the young dragon dropped and landed on his sternum. Quickly, he sat up, ignoring the way his muscles screamed in protest and the dragons made a gargled sound in its throat as it slid off his chest as he frantically backed up. He crawled backwards across the cushioned surface he lay on until he found no purchase under his hand and fell off the edge of it with a loud thud, with sheets and blankets tumbling over him.

He groaned loudly as a sharp bolt of pain shot up his spine, and he heard a boisterous laugh followed by the sound of heavy footsteps drawing close to the room.

“Stop laughing, Hanamaki!” a deep voice barked and Oikawa jolted when he felt something squirm beside him. He felt the weight of one of the blankets being lifted and the squirming creature was pulled away. “Come here, Taiki, leave him alone.”

Oikawa heard the young dragon cry, almost in despair, as it was pried away and slowly he raised an arm over his head to throw the blanket off as another hand grabbed at the fabric and pulled it away at the same time. Oikawa lifted his chin to look up at the person, pausing when their face looked a little familiar to him. Hazel eyes of green and golden brown under slightly furrowed brows and what looked like a perpetual but unintentional frown. He threw the heavy blanket over his arm as he lowered himself to lay a hand lightly on his shoulder.

“Are you alright?” he asked as the hand slipped under his arm to gently guide him up. Oikawa grit his teeth hard as he felt another bolt of pain flare through his nerves when the man helped him back onto the makeshift bed of cushions on a bench against the wall.

From his seat by the fire, having finally calmed himself, the one with cropped hair stood and approached while carrying the mortar bowl in his palm. Stretching out a hand, he patted his companion’s shoulder and pushed him backwards slightly. “Get lost Iwaizumi, you’re in the way,” he hummed playfully once Oikawa was seated upright. The other, Iwaizumi, narrowed his eyes at him as he stepped back and Hanamaki lowered himself onto his knees in front of Oikawa. “Hey, look here.”

Oikawa lifted his chin a little, blinking down at the figure kneeling in front of him. When their gaze met, Oikawa felt as though a heavy lump of snow had fallen on his shoulders, the cold sensation making him tense and freeze. A pair of half-lidded cognac brown eyes with halos of amber around the iris gleamed in the low light, captivating his attention. A fog filled his mind within seconds, drawing his attention away from everything else in the room but him.

He was vaguely aware of the feeling of a knife’s edge lightly pressing against his chest, being tugged up and outward as Hanamaki cut away the bloodied bandages to reveal the scarred and blistering flesh underneath. Hovering over Hanamaki’s shoulder, Iwaizumi hissed at the sight. Oikawa’s chest quivered and he sucked in a sharp breath out of reflex when he felt Hanamaki’s hand graze over the closed and badly burned wound.

“Shh…” Hanamaki hushed him quietly as he peeled away the bandages to discard them on the ground at his feet. Without breaking eye-contact, he reached into the mortar bowl and made his fingers slick with a rusty orange ointment that was littered with crushed herbs. When he pressed his hand to the bottom of the wound, Oikawa gasped again, his shoulders heaved, but he was coaxed into a calm state as Hanamaki hummed softly. “Hey, now, shh…it doesn’t hurt.” Oikawa wasn’t sure why, but he agreed, and nodded his head slightly despite the way his body shook in response to his touch. As Hanamaki applied the ointment, a sweat broke out over his skin and his breathing became laboured, but he was convinced of the fact that it didn’t hurt.

It took several minutes of careful touches for Hanamaki to cover the blistering wound with the ointment that would prevent infection. He maintained a hold of his spell even as he re-bandaged his chest, though it took him some time.

But the moment he tilted his head down and blinked, gathering his things to stand and walk away with his job done, the spell disintegrated. The fog in Oikawa’s mind disappeared immediately, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he hunched over, arms circling his waist as he made a breathless sobbing noise.

He felt a warm palm fall on his shoulder again, and it remained there for several moments, occasionally giving a comforting squeeze before he was pushed back to lie down on the cushions once more. “I’m sorry,” the voice belonged to the one called Iwaizumi, and Oikawa blinked at him with watering eyes. “I know that that kind of thing is…invasive, but–”

“It’s fine…” the words came out more broken than he’d have liked them too. The roof of his mouth felt dry and his throat cracked, and the words were more akin to a whisper than anything else.

There was a moment of silence as Iwaizumi waited for him to get a handle on his breathing. Each breath felt like he was swallowing hot coals, burning all the way down his throat and filling his lungs with smoke and ash. “What’s your name?” Iwaizumi asked when he was certain that his breathing has stabilised.

Another pause, this one thoughtful. Oikawa narrowed his eyes at a vacant spot over Iwaizumi’s shoulder as he wondered for a moment. He knew his name…he was certain he did. It took a several drawn out seconds for him to announce it. “Oikawa…Tooru…?” there was a hesitation in his words, both of them sounding foreign to him for a lingering moment.

“You sure about that?” Iwaizumi asked with a wry smile, and though it made his throat burn, Oikawa laughed.

“Hell if I know...” the laughter died down quickly and the small smile that had appeared on his face tightened. “Where am I?”

Iwaizumi paused to look over his shoulder and in doing so caught Hanamaki’s eye. There was a moment of silence, a silent conversation utterly unspoken, until Hanamaki nodded his head slowly and Iwaizumi looked back at him. “You’re in the Greenwood,” he explained, but narrowed his eyes when Oikawa shot him a confused look. “East of the marshes outside Daiichi– Kitagawa Daiichi?”

_Kitagawa._ The name stuck for a moment, and the memory of salted wind came back to him. “Are we near the ocean?”

Iwaizumi tilted his head a little. “It’d be a week’s journey, but yeah, I suppose.” Oikawa watched as Iwaizumi’s gaze flicked over him in a not-so subtle way, curiosity burning in his eyes. “You don’t know how you got here, do you?”

“I don’t…” he trailed off, squinting a little as he vaguely recalled a desire to be somewhere else, just barely remembering the strength of will it had taken to do so. He grunted as he endured the way his muscles ached when he sat up enough to lean on one elbow, facing Iwaizumi as he stared down at his palm. Iwaizumi followed his gaze, watching the way his fingers twitched and the air seemed to shimmer for a moment, but no more than that.

“Do you remember where you came from?” Hanamaki spoke from beside the fire, not looking at them but sensing the magic Oikawa tried to call forward.

Oikawa, in turn, shook his head in reply despite knowing he couldn’t see. “No.”

“A casting side effect? No, I suppose it’s lingered too long. Interference maybe?” Hanamaki began to murmur to himself as he tapped his nails on the wooden floor beside him.

“Makki, enough.” Iwaizumi said. “If he doesn’t remember, then it doesn’t matter. Go get some sleep.”

“Are you going to stay and babysit Yua then?” Hanamaki raised a brow as he finally turned his head to look at him.

“She’s not the one that needs babysitting,” he replied with a grin.

“I’m right here,” Oikawa narrowed his eyes up at Iwaizumi, only to pout when he heard him snigger under his breath quietly. Hanamaki laughed with him as he stood up and stretched. With a wave over his shoulder, he disappeared through an open archway into a dark hall and out of sight with a murmured good morning. Oikawa could faintly hear him yawn as he padded down the hall. “What time is it?”

“Early. Sun’ll be up in a couple of hours.”

“When did you find me?”

“A few days ago. You woke up a few times but you weren’t responsive.”

Oikawa made a strained sound in the back of his throat as he hung his head, almost out of embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, at least you’re not ungrateful,” Iwaizumi smirked a little and laughed more.

Oikawa pouted a little as he carefully lowered himself to lie back down on his side. Iwaizumi sat himself down on the ground beside the makeshift bed he assumed had been set up for him, and they were able to hold eye contact comfortably. After a moment, a question popped into Oikawa’s mind.

“Who’s Yua? A friend?” he glanced around the room over Iwaizumi’s shoulder. He’d only seen his companion, Hanamaki, in the room with them.

Iwaizumi’s smile betrayed him. “Sort of,” with a grin, he leaned in just a little bit closer to whisper to him. “Do you want to meet her?”

“Sure…?” Oikawa was almost afraid to answer.

He understood that instinctive fear when Iwaizumi looked over his shoulder and murmured a word in a language he didn’t understand. The sound of it was harsh and unnatural. After a moment of expectant silence, Oikawa heard some snap; the crack of charcoal splitting and fire being snuffed out. He immediately looked towards the fire pit, the flames of which had been low and only provided dim light, but now was alight as something rose up from under the blackened logs and stirred the embers.

Oikawa watched in awe as the soot covered white hatchling crawled out from under the ember nest it had been resting in and leapt across the floor in three quick bounds towards Iwaizumi’s side. Oikawa sat up and leaned away as he watched the beast claw its way up Iwaizumi’s calf to perch on his knee. When Iwaizumi reached his hand out, Oikawa quickly told him to be careful, but Iwaizumi’s grin widened as he held the belly of the creature in his palm without fear. The awe faded the moment he placed it beside him on the makeshift bed and pulled his hand away to shake it quickly. Even though the creature wasn’t touching him, Oikawa could feel the heat radiating from its body.

“Relax, she’s harmless,” Iwaizumi explained with a childlike grin. Oikawa’s gaze darted between Iwaizumi and the sooty dragon that cocked its head at him curiously. “She saved your life, you know.”

“What?” Oikawa asked incredulously as he fixed his eyes on Iwaizumi, though only for a moment. His gaze kept flicking back to the dragon nervously, and it too, began to shift as it lowered its head to stretch its neck out on the blankets. It huffed quietly, eyes blinking rapidly as it watched the exchange, and with each breath the small spines down its back quivered slightly.

“You were pretty badly cut up in the cave we found you in,” Iwaizumi began and his gaze dropped to the bandages wrapped around his chest. He could already see the small and scattered bloodspots staining the fabric. “When dragons are hurt, they tend to cauterise their own wounds using their tails. We figured Yua tried to do the same for you.”

Oikawa stared at the young dragon intently as Iwaizumi spoke. He chewed on his bottom lip, a little of his unease fading, but not enough to make him feel comfortable with having a dragon so close to his side. “Why?”

“Maybe she finds you interesting,” Iwaizumi teased with a laugh.

“Uh-huh…” Oikawa nodded his head, not really paying attention anymore as he began to shift his leg away when the dragon tried to inch a little further up to edge up near his waist.

Iwaizumi looked between them with another laugh before he reached to hook a finger under the dragon’s neck, tilting the hatchling’s head up and scratching his nail over the scales and pulling her back. In that foreign guttural tongue, he urged the dragon back to its bed, and with a disgruntled growl it leapt back towards the fire pit.

“How many, uh…how many of those are around?” Oikawa asked nervously as he watched the small dragon claw at the burnt logs to crawl under them again.

Iwaizumi smirked as he wiped his hand on the blanket to dust off the soot. “Three at the moment, including Yua and Taiki. The third is Hibiki. He’s probably around somewhere.”

“That’s not exactly comforting.” Oikawa quickly leaned over the edge of the bench he lay on to check under it for any unwelcome guest liking lurking underneath. He jolted when he felt a puff of warm breath ghost the shell of his ear as Iwaizumi leaned close to his side to press a hand to his chest and lay him back down with a gentle push.

“Relax, Hibiki’s probably with Matsukawa.” It took Iwaizumi a few moments to calmly explain to Oikawa that Matsukawa was not, in fact, another dragon – and that he had been with Iwaizumi at the time he was found.

With a heavy sigh, Oikawa raised his hands to weakly rub his eyes. Not that he wasn’t grateful for their help, but he silently wished he’d been found by slightly more normal people. A gentle but unexpected touch at his cheek made him flinch, and Oikawa tilted his head to see Iwaizumi brushing stray strands of chestnut coloured hair away from his face.

“You should sleep some more. You look like shit,” he teased, that same wry smile tugging at his lips.

“Well, _thank you_ ,” Oikawa pouted as he hunched his shoulder and curled up on his side under the blankets. He glared up at him childishly for a moment before he expression softened. “And…thank you.”

Iwaizumi’s smile became more genuine at the words. “You’re welcome. Now get some sleep.” With those words Iwaizumi stood, patting Oikawa’s shoulder as he did so, and walked towards the spot Hanamaki had been sitting in earlier. Oikawa remained awake for some time, his gaze wandering to various objects in the living area. It was sparse of much furniture – indeed, it looked like it hadn’t been lived in for a long time, and the personal effects of Iwaizumi and his companions stood out greatly in comparison to the simplistic and old décor. Small but full looking packs and cloaks lined with furs, boots that caked in dried mud and what looked like a makeshift alchemy station; a meagre desk with jars of herbs and indistinguishable liquids in glass flasks.

After a while, Oikawa found himself staring at Iwaizumi’s back. He was humming to himself, a tune he carried in a low but gentle pitch as the flames of the fire pit brightened for a moment, and he heard a content, or what he thought was content, murmur from under the logs. In his hands, he seemed to be fiddled with a small pieced of unburned wood, dragging a knife across its surface as he carved some shape out of it.

Oikawa smiled despite himself, and feeling at ease, allowed himself to close his eyes to rest for a moment. Those long seconds turned into minutes, into hours, and he slept soundly through the early morning while Iwaizumi sat by the fire, humming ever so quietly under his breath.


End file.
